Blaine didn't leave the pyramid. It was a surprise for Kurt, after the horrible things his husband had told him, because he honestly didn't understand what was keeping Blaine there if they were, as he had repeatedly emphasized, done. It made him think that maybe they weren't, after all, and that Blaine would come around eventually and ask for his forgiveness. But as the days went by, the prospect started to seem unlikely.

The thing was that Blaine hadn't left the pyramid, but it looked as if he had. He was... haunting it. Kurt cringed at the word, because it made it sound as if Blaine was dead, but he couldn't find another one to describe it. Because all Blaine did was staying closed inside Tina's chambers – where he had moved – and wander around from time to time, looking like a ghost. Sometimes he got drunk, too; Kurt could see it in his unfocused eyes, in the slow, dragged way he moved. He never went to Kurt's chambers nor the court, but he passed more time on the terrace than Kurt would have liked, staring out, looking for vengeance.

Of course, Kurt knew those things by asking guards and cupbearers and servants, because every time he happened to cross paths with Blaine, his husband looked away and disappeared around the nearest corner before Kurt could open his mouth to speak to him. And honestly, he didn't even know what he would say.

Because he was mad at Blaine, and for so many reasons that if he really stopped and thought about it, it gave him a headache. He was mad at him for the way he'd blamed him, because it had been harsh and cruel and just a way to channel his rage toward someone, but deep down, Kurt wondered. Wondered if Blaine was right. And that... that made him feel mad at him even more.

Logically, Kurt knew it wasn't his fault. He wasn't a Son of the Harpy. Plus, they had never done something that could have lead him to forbid access to the terrace, because he had always been safe there, while it had turned out that they could have killed him anytime. Which made him wonder why they hadn't, exactly. What Blaine thought was logical too, though. Kurt had insisted on staying, and that had put Tina in danger indirectly. But he didn't know that at the time. Was it his fault anyway? Was it a fault to be na�ve and hopeful?

He was mad at Blaine for leaving him, of course. He hadn't left, physically, but somehow he had, abandoning Kurt when he needed him the most, forcing the both of them to deal with such a tragedy on their own. And he was mad at Blaine for the luxury he had: the possibility to walk around all day doing nothing but grieve, something everyone should be allowed to do at least for some time – a possibility Kurt didn't share, of course. Because Blaine's absence at court didn't make any difference, but Kurt's would.

So as Blaine dealt with his grief in his own, fucked up way, Kurt swallowed down his and set to work to fix the mess they had ended up into. It was a blessing on one hand, to have so many things to do and keep his mind occupied, away from the dangerous vortex of rage and sadness he felt inside, but given how little he slept, it was wearing him down.

First, he summoned the Green Grace, Galazza Galare.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Magnificence" the middle-aged woman in green said as soon as she stopped in front of his bench. "All the Graces are praying for your unborn son. The Gods of Ghis will take him by the hand and lead him to your Horse-God, I'm sure of it."

So many Gods, Kurt couldn't help but think, and none of them ever listens to me.

"Thank you for your prayers" he replied softly. "I'm sure Her Benevolence is wondering why I called her, though."

"She is" the Green Grace confirmed, her expression concealed behind her emerald veil. Kurt took a deep breath before answering.

"I want you to go treat with the Yunkai'i for a peace."

For that very important meeting, Kurt hadn't allowed an audience; but if he had, he was sure the court would have immediately filled with the usual buzz of badly suppressed whispers that followed a particularly crucial announcement. Even the silent, immobile novices the priestess carried around seemed to shift uneasily on their feet for a moment. Galazza Galare, instead, barely raised an eyebrow.

"If His Radiance doesn't mind me asking, why me?" was all she said.

Kurt had thought about it long enough to give her a good, coherent explanation.

"Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen share the same Old Gods. If there is someone in this city they will agree to meet, it is you. I want you to tell them my terms, and then come back here and tell theirs to me. I'm sure you will agree with me that a war among the slaver cities would be a shameful chapter in the history of Slaver's Bay, a sin in the eyes of your Gods, and a loss for everyone involved."

She chewed on that for a moment, staring at him with her intense, piercing eyes.

"I agree with you, yes" she answered slowly. "But I'm thinking... why should they accept? Your army beat a retreat because they were winning. Why should they stop now?"

Kurt had wondered the same, and he was still doubtful about the answer.

"Because the siege will only make them lose time, money and precious lives, things they could employ to keep trading slaves exactly as they used to. This war is just... a whim. The Great Masters of Meereen are safe and silent atop their precious pyramids, unharmed, accepting. Soon the Astapori and Yunkai'i will realize that it's not worth it, but I want you to accelerate the process. If they seem unconvinced, tell them I have been training two of my dragons for battle, and that just now they are ready to fight. That will do the trick, I assume. The Astapori, especially, remember them quite well."

Her eyes seemed to reflect the grin Kurt was sure she was wearing.

"Smart" she conceded, linking her hands in front of her knowingly. "I suppose His Worship won't tell me if that is true or not."

Kurt weighed her for a moment, crossing and uncrossing his legs. She must have seen Drogon in the sky from her temple, so saying "two dragons" sounded more plausible; still, he was sure she heard many rumors from those who went there to pray. But that wasn't the point; her purpose with the Yunkai'i was to look convincing.

"He won't. But it would be a shame for Her Benevolence to lie in the name of her Gods, now, wouldn't it?"

"It would" she commented, taking the blow with practiced confidence. "What are your terms, then?"

That was the part Kurt hated the most of all the affair, but it was necessary. He couldn't have it all, and the recent happenings were proof of that. Regardless, saying it into words felt terribly final, like something he couldn't come back from. It felt like betrayal, and it was. To what he believed in, to what he had fought for, to his children.

"If they leave and go back to their cities, I promise I will never go after them again. They will be able to trade slaves between them, but not with Meereen, which will remain a free city. On their part, they have to swear they will never try to conquer it again, and that they will accept whoever comes after me as sovereign."

"A non-belligerency agreement, basically."

"Exactly."

She nodded in understanding.

"I will arrange my departure, then. I hope my service will please you, Your Radiance."

"I hope so, too" Kurt replied in a worried tone.

As she turned to leave, he beckoned to Puck to come closer to the bench.

"Go with her" he ordered the sellsword in a whisper. "I want to be sure she says what I told her to say, and you understand Ghiscari. Tell her I'm sending you as a courtesy, to protect her."

Puck seemed doubtful.

"I will do as you say, but she'll see right through it, that one. Also, I don't think the Yunkai'i will like me being there – I betrayed them for you, after all."

"You did," Kurt agreed, "but your presence there will make me look stronger in their eyes. They don't know you changed sides because of your... let's say, very special morals. They will wonder why you're not betraying me this time, if they truly are on the winning side. They will question themselves, I hope. Also, you are a great liar. Be sure to sound convincingly awed if they ask you about dragons."

The Titan smirked at that, pleased by what had to be an amazing compliment for him.

"You've really thought this through, khalees. I'm impressed" he said, before leaving to go after the Green Grace.

It looks like I have, he realized dully. It seemed as if, now that the affective part of his life was practically sinking, he was suddenly better at political stuff. The knowledge made him feel incredibly empty.

Maybe that's how you must be, if you want to play the game of thrones.

Next, he summoned Adam Crawford. It was time to find those damned Sons of the Harpy and make an end to it. Kurt wasn't Dothraki-born, but a secret part of him craved blood and wanted it soon. Four pyramids surrounded his: Rhazdar, Pahl, Loraq and Merreq. Former slaver families, all of them; Kurt had at least one child from each inside the Great Pyramid. The Crawford pyramid wasn't one of them, which was a relief – small, but still.

When the young nobleman arrived, though, he wasn't alone. He had armed guards with him, carrying three men chained to one another by their wrists.

"I present you three Sons of the Harpy" he announced, opening his arms wide and stepping aside to have Kurt take a better look at them. "When they murdered your son, they made a terrible mistake, Magnificence. I was able to narrow it down to four families, and go from there."

It made him want to scream, to know that Adam was able to find them only because of Cooper's death. They had gone too far, after all, doing something way too risky; and maybe they knew that, too. They all looked resigned, as if they had expected that moment to arrive for a long time. Maybe it had been a suicide mission, just one last slight to punish him for the trouble he had caused, but without killing him – because death was quick, and easy, and not painful enough.

"Who do you work for?" Kurt asked them, staring hard at each of their faces. They all had dark skin and hair and looked like someone had beaten them – to get them to talk, most likely. One had a black eye, another a split lip. Kurt didn't feel sorry for them. He couldn't.

"When His Radiance asks you a question, you answer" Adam Crawford reprimanded them coldly after a long stretch of silence.

The first one lifted his head in a sudden show of pride, grinning at Kurt with a mouth missing a couple of teeth.

"We work for Meereen. For the people. For the Gods!" he answered, his voice getting louder as he spoke. Beckoned by Adam, one of his guards slapped the prisoner. Kurt stood up from the bench abruptly.

"Which family do you work for? Who is the Harpy? Who ordered you to kill my son?" he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at them.

The first one kept staring at him defiantly, but the one chained behind him whispered pitifully, "Loraq."

Kurt fixed him with a hard, unforgiving stare. Even though the mystery seemed to be solved, he didn't feel any better.

"I'm having a list made, of all the other members. They mentioned some when we tortured them, but they may be hundreds. I will track them down for you, Your Worship" Adam Crawford spoke up. "What now?"

Kurt turned around to find Grey Worm in the line of Unsullied guarding the court. His cold, sad eyes met Kurt's, and he stepped closer immediately.

"Take all the Unsullied you think you need and go to Loraq's pyramid" he ordered coldly, with a voice that didn't sound like his anymore. A pause, and then, "Kill them. Kill them all."

Grey Worm's jaw clenched.

"Your wish is my command, khalees," he murmured. "...thank you."

The rational part of his brain knew Loraq deserved a trial to pay for his crimes. The impulsive, raging, wounded part of him just wanted him dead. He was done being just. It hadn't done him any good. He also knew that such a ferocious execution would not please the other slaver families, but honestly, he was past caring about what pleased them.

As an afterthought, he added, "And take the Khal with you."

If he needed blood, he couldn't imagine what it was like for Blaine. It would be good for him – a way to vent and maybe, just maybe, find some peace. Kurt wished it for him as much as he wished it for himself. Seeing him like that, even though he was mad at him, was heartbreaking.

When Grey Worm left, he turned to Adam.

"You can leave them here. You respected your end of the bargain, so I will respect mine: you can reopen the fighting pits. But remember the rules I set."

It seemed such a small concession, compared to everything else. A small, almost ridiculous loss, when not that long before it had looked a huge offense, something Kurt would never allow. Things changed so fast, it made his head spin.

"Of course, Worship, of course!" the Meereenese assured him enthusiastically, before his expression turned sad all of a sudden. "I'm sorry it had to happen this way. I really am."

"Thank you" Kurt told him, even though a part of him wondered how sorry Adam truly was. After all, he had obtained what he wanted in the end. Did he really care that much?

As the nobleman bowed and made to leave, Kurt gave his new orders to Finn.

"Take them down to the dungeons" he told the knight in a stern, flat voice. Finn blinked, uncomprehending.

"To the cells?"

Kurt turned to look at the prisoners for a moment. He thought he would feel something, but he didn't.

"To the dragons."

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It was vaguely unsettling, to count how many times Kurt had seen Blaine covered in blood. And it was even more unsettling to know the effect it had on him – some would consider it morbid, to say the least. But it had never, ever been that way.

When Blaine came back from Loraq's pyramid, in fact, he was drenched. It was everywhere; in his hair, on his face, all over his body, as if he had just stepped out of a pool of it. To get that dirty, he must have literally opened people from neck to groin. The thought didn't turn Kurt on; it made him sick. Sure, he had told Grey Worm to involve Blaine so he would feel better, but somehow knowing that Blaine had needed that to feel better was... sad.

Blaine was sad, too. Kurt could only take a glimpse at him as he strode along a corridor, leaving red footprints on the floor, but it was enough. He opened his mouth to say something (even though he didn't know what), but Blaine averted his gaze and turned a corner, disappearing like the ghost he had become.

But Kurt couldn't stop thinking about him. He was fixing things, fixing everything he had broken – everything but what he cared about the most. If the Gods were good – which they never were, but anyway – the enemy would leave, and the Sons of the Harpy had been captured. But none of that mattered, if he was alone. None of that mattered, if Blaine hated him. Just thinking about it hurt. A part of Kurt hated Blaine, too, but all the rest needed him, needed to confide Blaine all the compromises he was being forced to admit, the self-hatred he felt for what had happened to Tina and their son and all his abandoned children without Blaine adding fire to the guilt.

So instead of heading to his own chambers as he had intended to, he turned around to follow Blaine from a distance, walking down to the second floor.

When he found himself in front of the closed door, he hesitated, feeling scared and vulnerable. He didn't know if he could endure hearing Blaine's terrible words again. But he took a deep breath, straightened his back, and lifted his hand to knock. Before he could press it against the door, though, he heard voices coming from inside.

"My Khal, just let us help-"

"I don't need any help! Go away!"

"But-"

"Out!"

He heard quick, rushed steps getting closer, and then the door was slammed open and two boys emerged from the room, looking positively terrified. They were the slaves Blaine had freed in Yunkai when he'd killed the envoy of the Yellow City, Dustin Goolsby, who had decided to offer themselves as his slaves out of gratitude. They were younger than Kurt, thirteen maybe, and quite shy; Kurt hadn't seen them that often, but on those rare times he had, they were always looking down at the floor and answering in monosyllables. One thing he knew, though, was that they basically worshipped Blaine.

The boys scurried away without even looking at Kurt. He watched them go in silence, then turned around and slipped inside the room, closing the door behind him.

"I told you to get the fuck-"

When Blaine realized it wasn't them, he stopped speaking abruptly. From what Kurt could see, the fuss had been caused by a bath Blaine was supposed to have; there was a wooden tub next to him, filled with water, and various bowls full and empty to replace the water as it got dirty.

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked suddenly, as a small trickle of blood dripped from his fingertips, creating a tap-tap-tap that echoed noisily as it reached the floor. The blood in his hair and on his skin was already crusting, covering his tattoos under a thick, copper-smelling layer.

Whatever Kurt had intended to say seemed to die in his throat. The truth was that he didn't even know what that was. He realized he didn't know how to fix it. Everything else suddenly appeared easy in comparison.

"I don't know" he had to answer lamely. "I... wanted to check if you were alright, I guess."

He could glimpse a flash of softness in Blaine's eyes – the echo of something that used to be there all the time – but he expertly replaced it with a mask of coldness.

"Yeah, well, I'm having a bath now, so if you don't mind..."

He crouched down to unlace his boots, but his hands were trembling. Every time he got hold of a lace, it seemed to slip from his fingers like water. Kurt watched him try until it became too much.

"Come on, let me" he found himself saying, crossing the small space separating them. He crouched down in front of Blaine and reached out to unlace the first boot, but Blaine flinched back a couple of inches.

"Kurt, fuck, just- just go" he pleaded, clutching at the shoe to prevent Kurt from touching it.

"You're so shaken you can't even unlace your boots, Blaine" Kurt objected. "Just let me do it, it's fine."

It didn't happen often, to see Blaine so vulnerable. Kurt knew he was, deep down, but the problem was that he hid it too well. That's why it was so startling to see him like that, shaking and somehow... drained. Killing had never done that to him; on the contrary, it had always been exhilarating. Kurt could understand why it was different, though. And the instinct he had to protect and nurture Blaine was something he couldn't just suppress, in spite of the circumstances.

Blaine surrendered weakly and let him do it. When Kurt was done, he slipped the boots from Blaine's feet and they both stood up, facing each other. The smell of blood was so strong in the air that Kurt felt as if he could taste it on his tongue as he breathed. He lowered a hand to start unlacing Blaine's riding trousers with practiced ease.

"What-"

"Shhh" Kurt whispered, looking down to avoid looking into Blaine's eyes, because he didn't think he could endure that without leaning forward to kiss him, and then Blaine would step back and reject him and that would crush him.

"Step into the tub" he told Blaine as he removed the garment. Seeing him naked made something ache in his chest, the thought of what would have happened if things were different.

Blaine hesitated visibly, but eventually he complied. Water splashed out of the tub as he lowered himself in it. Kurt took a rag from one of the full bowls, were the boys had left it, and slowly lifted his arm to start scrubbing Blaine clean. The water inside the tub was turning red already, partially hiding Blaine's body.

"This- this doesn't change anything" Blaine whispered hoarsely as the rag got in contact with his right arm, which twitched weakly against the rim of the tub. "I'm still mad at you."

Even though the words hurt, the calmness with which Blaine was saying them was almost soothing. It was something he could deal with. It was easier.

"I know" Kurt said just as calmly, focusing on removing the crusted blood from the hairs of Blaine's arm, the soft, sensitive inside of his elbow, from under his nails. "I'm mad at you, too."

Long, silent minutes passed, as Kurt washed the blood away from Blaine's chest, his neck, his face. He could feel him looking at him, but he never lifted his eyes to make sure of it, keeping them focused on the task at hand. It was practical, simple, and it kept his mind busy. Not busy enough to keep him from wondering whether that would be the last time he got to touch Blaine like that.

He was cleaning Blaine's curls – which was proving to be quite difficult, given how tangled they were without blood crusting among them – when Blaine spoke again.

"I don't know if I'll ever stop being mad at you."

Kurt stopped moving for a second, receiving the blow in silence.

"I know" he admitted quietly, resuming the movement of his hand.

Why are you still here, then?, he wanted to ask, but he held his tongue when he realized that maybe Blaine had stayed just to obtain revenge. And now he had. He would leave soon, there was no reason not to. Suddenly he knew that without the need to ask, so he spared himself the pain of hearing it out loud.

Other long minutes went by; Kurt replaced the red water using the bowls and walked around the tub to clean the other half of Blaine's body. It was so weird to know that he was scrubbing away something that had been inside someone's body, but it didn't gross him out as he thought it would. The thought of what had probably happened to make all that blood end up there did, though. Just a little.

"Where are the prisoners?" Blaine asked, as Kurt insisted on a particularly hard stain in the middle of his chest. "Grey Worm said there were prisoners."

"I fed them to Rhaegal and Viserion" Kurt answered – again, saying that should feel wrong somehow, but instead it was satisfying. As painful as it was to know that Drogon had murdered an innocent girl, making them kill people who deserved it was quite nice. Fulfilling, even.

"Good" Blaine replied. "I suppose that's not painless at all."

Making small talk about something like that was ridiculous, if Kurt stopped and thought about it, but it had always been like that with Blaine. That was what hurt the most, though; to know that even though they were talking as if everything was fine, it was just a farce. An imitation of normalcy. Nothing was fine.

For a moment he felt the need to burst and tell that to Blaine, tell him to stop pretending that he was enjoying talking to him after the horrible things he'd said, but he decided to just let himself flow with it, savor the moment before it ended and they got back to not speaking to each other, avoiding each other in the corridors, sleeping in two different beds. Were they even together? He didn't know how to define what they were anymore.

"No, it's not" he said, his hand working its way down to trace Blaine's scar lightly – making memories unfurl and flutter in Kurt's chest, of a time when they had almost lost each other but managed not to. "They may have burnt them alive and eaten them, or just devoured them. Either way, it doesn't get more painful than that."

Blaine stayed silent for a moment before answering.

"Then why didn't you feed him to your dragons, too?"

"Because I knew you'd want to kill him" Kurt said automatically.

He felt Blaine's breath itch under his palm. There was no answer.

"Did it make you feel better?" Kurt asked him then.

"Not as much as I thought it would" Blaine replied, his body slowly relaxing into the water, the nervous twitches of exhaustion dying away. "It was painful, though. I can assure you. Most of this blood is his."

Kurt couldn't help but flinch uncomfortably at that, at the raw, matter-of-fact honesty of it. Blaine kept rambling, though – he always did when he was distracted, lost in his own world.

"He kept screaming it wasn't him, that we had made a mistake. After all, they always do. So first I cut off his tongue, so I wouldn't have to hear him scream anymore, and then-"

"Blaine" Kurt interjected, jaw clenched. "I get it."

The lower part of Blaine's body wasn't dirty, thank the Gods, so Kurt found himself with nothing left to do. They both realized it, and spoke at the same time.

"I'm done-"

"Do you think-"

They looked at each other for a moment, but Kurt didn't last more than two seconds. He couldn't stare into Blaine's eyes without remembering how cruel they had been and how beautiful they were at the same time. It was maddening.

When Blaine realized Kurt wasn't going to repeat what he'd tried to say, he decided to speak and fill the silence.

"Do you think unborn babies can ride in the nightlands?" he asked, his voice small and croaked and vulnerable, and Kurt's head shot up to look at him because he couldn't help it this time. "No one has ever been clear about that. I- I don't think he was able to ride yet."

A wave of sadness hit him so hard that he almost felt dizzy. He wished he could just launch himself forward and sink in Blaine's embrace, comfort him and being comforted in return.

"The horse will take him even if he can't" Kurt replied hoarsely, gripping the edge of the tub. "Don't worry. He'll be okay."

Blaine clenched his jaw and looked away. His expression clouded. He didn't turn around when he answered.

"Can you go now?" he asked in sharp tone. "I want to be alone. And I... I don't want you to come in here again."

It was like seeing the mirror crashing against the wall, only distant, dulled by pain.

Will he say goodbye when he leaves?, Kurt wondered. Or will he just go without a word as if he never loved me?

He stood up and let the rag fall inside one of the bowls in silence. When he reached the door, he turned around to look at Blaine again, but his eyes were far off, looking at the wall as if there was something particularly interesting in it.

I can't even look at you right now, echoed Blaine's words in his head. This is your fault. We're done.

And if Blaine really thought that – regardless of whether he was right or wrong – how could he ever forgive Kurt? He had never thought about it in those terms before, but he should have. If Kurt considered someone guilty or responsible for his son's death, would he ever find it in himself to forgive him? He thought back to the Sons of the Harpy, and the cruel, cold way with which he had condemned the Loraq family. Did Blaine feel what Kurt had felt when he had looked at them?

And should Kurt take him back anyway? It was terrifying, to know that Blaine could hurt him so much using only his words.

Who told him Blaine wouldn't hurt him again?

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It took Galazza Galare two days to come back with the answer Kurt awaited. Two days during which Blaine practically disappeared. He was down at the base of the pyramid, among his Dothraki warriors, for the first time since their loss.

He was leaving. Kurt knew he was. Packing, or organizing the departure. He had been right, but it didn't feel good to be right. It just made him feel emptier.

"How did it go?" he couldn't help but whisper to Puck as soon as the sellsword walked up the stairs to join him, even though the Green Grace was standing in front of him in the middle of the court.

"You won't like it, khalees" Puck replied in a barely-there whisper, settling next to Quinn. Kurt swallowed, anguish gripping his throat. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his soft purple thokar moving over his body like a caress, and looked at the priestess.

"Tell me" he told her in a resolute tone. The pause that followed seemed to last forever.

"They said yes" she answered, with a mildly surprised voice. Kurt frowned and turned around to glare briefly at Puck, wondering if his had been just a jape to make him worry for nothing. It wasn't funny.

"They did?" he asked, just as awed. The Green Grace nodded.

"It took me a great deal of convincing, of talking about Gods and mentioning dragons, but eventually, they did. Even though it was a victory for them, the last battle has weakened them. Your Khal and his horselords made a bloody mess, before realizing that they wouldn't succeed." She paused. "They have another condition, though."

Not the dragons, was Kurt's first thought. Please tell me they don't want me to kill the dragons.

"What is it?"

She seemed to savor the moment, and right after she spoke, Kurt understood exactly why.

"They want you to take a Meereenese nobleman as your consort, Magnificence."

Kurt blinked at her, uncomprehending. He turned toward Puck again with an interrogative expression, to which the sellsword replied by mouthing, "Told you. She's not lying."

"As your lackey is so subtly telling you," the woman in green spoke up, raising an eyebrow, "no, I'm not lying just to achieve my purpose. I told you traditions are important for those of Ghiscari blood, Your Radiance, and that includes Yunkai'i and Astapori as well."

Kurt stared at her pensively, frowning. It was something he would have never guessed; he couldn't understand why it seemed to be so important, and why they had made it a condition to end a war.

"Are you saying this is just about traditions?" he asked, quite sharply. The priestess seemed to have been expecting the question.

"Of course it's not. They want you to make a commitment towards them, a tangible sign that you will be true to your word. It's... their way of showing they have power over you, I guess, by setting a condition you can't refuse. But that's my personal interpretation, Your Worship, I beg your pardon if I said it unasked. What they said to me, basically, is that they don't trust you enough to leave Meereen in your hands only. They want to be sure you share your decisions with someone, someone of Ghiscari blood just like them. You can pick, of course. Just like I told you not so long ago."

Kurt felt trapped. He knew her interpretation was right, but it didn't make any difference: he was on the losing side of this, and if he didn't accept, the war would go on. He couldn't risk another defeat, he just... couldn't. He didn't have it in himself anymore, to risk. Not after what had happened to Tina and Cooper.

And Blaine... would he even care at this point? Should Kurt consult him about it?

"I have a husband" he said, weakly.

Have I?

The Green Grace almost rolled her eyes, but she was too elegant and composed to do that. Still, it felt as if she had.

"I told you before, Your Radiance" she soothed, sounding almost like a reassuring mother. "It makes no matter in Slaver's Bay. To the Gods of Ghis, only those wed in their name are considered actually wed. Moreover, if it's a reassurance for you, the Yunkai'i don't care whether you consummate the marriage or not. It's a political business for them. It can be just a farce, if that's what you want."

Kurt thought about it. He could leave the city to the rule of some Meereenese of his choice (because at this point, it was clear that a council of freedmen wasn't a possible option for the enemy), but who told him the man wouldn't just reestablish slavery as if nothing had ever happened? He had lost Yunkai and Astapor, in the end; he couldn't lose Meereen, too, after how hard he had fought for it, after everything he had lost. His and Blaine's son would have died in vane, then. At least by marrying him, he could maybe get to know him and eventually leave the city to him.

And after all, if he left, what would he have to go back to Westeros? Three dragons he couldn't bring with him, and an army that wasn't big enough? The ideal thing would have been to have Unsullied, Titans, Blaine's khalasar and the dragons at his disposal. The khalasar was surely out of the equation at this point, and he didn't know which side the Titans would take if he departed.

Even so, he could still try. He could go back to Pentos, find Sandy and go from there. His protector would probably finance him and provide him with another army. But the dragons... what would happen to them?

They would kill them as soon as I'm gone, he thought – he knew.

"Are you actually considering this, khalees?" Finn whispered through gritted teeth. "What will the Khal say?"

He didn't know why exactly, but that made him clench his fists.

"I don't know if you noticed, but he doesn't say much lately" he said, speaking softly so the Grace wouldn't hear it (hopefully).

"Still..." Finn replied, looking into his eyes intently. Kurt held the gaze, then sighed.

"Fine," he said softly, then louder to the priestess, "I will give you a reply as soon as I speak with my Khal, Your Benevolence."

She furrowed her brow, and Kurt was sure her lips were pursed, too.

"I'm sorry, Magnificence, I forgot" she answered slowly, cautiously. "They want an answer now."

"Now?!" Kurt echoed, stunned. She nodded solemnly.

"There is an envoy waiting outside the court, but I deemed it disrespectful to let him enter here without your permission, so I told him to wait there. Still, you have run out of time, Worship. I'm sorry."

"Khalees" Finn called him in a hot, urgent tone. "You can't-"

"He's going to say no" Kurt interjected – he didn't know if it was an excuse or, deep down, a hope. Hope that Blaine still cared. "It wouldn't change a thing, he's going to say no while I have to say yes. It would cause an argument we don't have the time for."

Or he will just say that he doesn't even care.

It would take Kurt more than an hour to climb down, find him, talk to him and climb back up. An hour he didn't have.

"I'm sorry, Magnificence, what do you-"

"I'll do it" he declared, stopping her midsentence. "You can go tell him, I'll do it."

He was sure she was smiling, even though he couldn't see it. Inside, he felt as if a part of him had just died. The part that believed in love and justice and happy endings. It felt like signing his own death sentence, like jumping off a cliff. That would be the last straw for him and Blaine, but Blaine was leaving, he had to be leaving, he was down with the khalasar, it was exactly how it looked because it always was like that.

"Your Radiance is wise, I have always thought so" the Green Grace said, pleased. "May I know which nobleman will be lucky enough to wed you?"

He didn't trust anyone in Meereen, but the closest thing to trust he felt was for one man, the only one who had done something that had helped him in some way. The only one who seemed to respect him, even though he could just be a great actor. The only one who had gone against his own fellow citizens to give Kurt the justice he needed, even though he also had a personal reason for it.

"Adam Crawford."